


He Still Believes

by blom_erzi



Category: APH - Fandom, Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anko Family - Freeform, Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:00:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blom_erzi/pseuds/blom_erzi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sad anko family one shot, 1977.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Still Believes

May 31, 1977

Dearest Lukas,

It's been a while.  
I've almost forgotten what it's like to wake up beside your beautiful, sleeping form. To see your tired smile and the imprint of the pillow on your wet face, to see you slovenly wipe drool from the edge of your mouth. Now it's just Emil who sleeps beside me.

He still thinks you're going to come walking through that door some time soon. For you to casually walk through the door and announce you're home, and to be exhausted from your rather _long_ stay at work. No matter how many times I sternly reprimand him, and say how it's utterly _impossible_ , how you're _dead_ _,_ he still thinks you'd come waltzing through that door tonight, with open arms just for him, a kiss just for me. For you to groan about how tired you are, to laugh at my jokes, to gasp at his latest drawing. He _is_ just a boy- but after months, he still believes you're gonna come home. He likes to believe you've gotten lost, and that the fairies are there to keep you company.

-Mathias

June 18, 1977

Dearest Lukas,

He doesn't understand- We come to visit you, but every time we go, he is so confused. "Him? Right _here_?" He asks, a disbelieving look on his chubby face as he points to the earth. He doesn't understand, _can't_ understand that you're in the ground. How'd you get to work that way?

As for me, I'm guilty. I feel so bad, I know what I am doing is terribly wrong... I enjoy to play his games. There is none left of course, but his nonsensical excuses give me hope. They make me think.... Well, maybe hope is not the right word. They make me forget. They make me oblivious for a couple of hours. Just to see his smiling face as I say, "You know what, Emil? Maybe he will! We'll see him again." Makes me happy beyond belief. The joy of lying to my only lifeline left keeps me up almost every night. The chronic pain in my chest that never seems to leave flees for a little while, and honestly, I start to believe it too.

I cry, Lukas. Almost everyday. In private, of course- how would Emil react to the strongest person he knows breaking down before his innocent eyes? I was cursing my life, wondering how my heart could _possibly_ beat while yours could not, how my lungs were working when yours weren't. How was it possible? Emil was already sleeping in our bed, and I? I was ready to faint at our dinner table, all pride or will I had left gone. Vanished. Much like the color in this house since you have left, Lukas. I was losing all strength, and despising myself knowing that a four year old boy hadn't. But he was, _is_ in denial, isn't he?

I was lucky- incredibly lucky I hadn't listened to my wilted mind, the mind that could no longer seem to work without you. I was so lucky I hadn't touched that pack of aged beer, the pack I vowed I'd never down. Before, you were my impulse control? And now? Who am I supposed to listen to? The wavering voice of a six year old child?

"D-Daddy..." He'd quiver, looking up at me from his spot. He was wearing those adorable pajamas you made him, clutching his damned puffin doll. But I perked up immediately, hearing the pure fear behind me.

I immediately wiped my face, looking at our son with reddened eyes and feigned cheeriness. God, everything is forced now. "Yes, sweetheart?" I'd stammer, getting up from my back breakingly uncomfortable spot to meet him. Yes, I am a lot of things, I've become a lot of things since you've died, but I'm a reasonable man. I'm not one to blow up at children. Yes, in the process of gaining, I've shed many thins, losing a lot of things, too. And many of them were good, Lukas. I've lost the ability to laugh for hours on end genuinely, to smile with my eyes, to even watch a goddamned movie without thinking of you. Because with all of those things, I had you. I had you and Emil with me, by my side. But now it's just Emil.

I love the little squirt more than anything in the world, but without you, it's become hard- _impossible_ , to love anything. Oh, Lukas. You'd be disappointed with me. I'm glad you can't see me.

-Mathias

June 28, 1977

Dearest Lukas,

Emil hardly speaks of you anymore.

He no longer believes you would come home to us. And it scares me sometimes. Just what is going on in this kid's mind? It's worrying... Yes, it was worrying how in denial, how stubborn he was about you being dead, about you being cold, about you no longer working, but this; this was so sudden... Yes, flat out denial, excuses, those are common for children. But this sudden change, it worries me. God, what am I... Why did I ever doubt, why did I ever despise, even envy those innocent excuses, why did I ever want him to be like this? God, Lukas, my love, I've gone rotten, what's the matter with me? Those soft reprimands, those subtle rebuttals, that easy going chastisement... Why? For what? What purpose did they serve in this grand, condescending life of mine?

Why wasn't it me instead? Why, you Lukas, you could properly love and care for Emil. Sometimes, I can't even bear to look at him- his voice speaks yours, his opinions ring with your thoughts, his face yells 'Lukas'. But me? There is none of him in me. Or no, why should it have been me? Why should it have been any of us? Dear Emil? We didn't deserve this. Why couldn't it have been some nobody, a man with no past, no worth; why wasn't it someone who deserved it?

God, Emil doesn't even ask me to read to him anymore. Or cook for him, or even to sleep with him every night... Your side of the bed is barren now, Lukas... Our bed has gone quite cold without the presence of that beloved piece of sunshine occupying it.

What has become of us, of me? Or more importantly, what has become of our Emil?

-Mathias

July 6, 1977

Dearest Lukas,

Can you remember the first time we met? C'mon, think... All the way back in Siglufjörður, a beautiful city, yes. The year was... 1954? I was twelve, you were fourteen. Yes, I remember it all very clearly; the smell of the wind, the scent of the fish, the way your hair shone like spun gold in the dying daylight, the way it lay warm but dead like the morning sun in the break of dawn. The way your frigid and unscathed white hands showed plainly you've never worked a day in your life.  
Only twelve, and already working with my grandfather at his port- or _helping_ , as some would say. Yes, my grandfather had a creaky knee, a tweaked back, and yet- he was the strongest man I've ever known. Funniest, too.  
Told me to go out, make some friends. I was twelve after all, and although I had to work, I still had time to be a kid, as well.  
We changed- no, we grew together. We grew up together, followed our dreams, moved ourselves to California, we chased our dreams. Hollywood! We made it.  
Even in the time we've loved each other, even with the impressive amount we've grown, you were then as you are now, or used to be. Cold, apathetic, uncaring. Of course, that was just a front- a test. A warning to those bold enough to try. And even at the age of twelve, I still believed. I still hoped. You are so amazing, Lukas. You have lived, lived thirty two years, and to have it all snuffed out, instantly breaking your heavily reinforced will, your beautiful, brilliant mind, everything that makes you _you_ \- And you're dead. And you remain unchanged. I know it's because it's literally impossible to change, you're dead, you can't think, let alone breathe, but... It's nicer to think this way. It's nicer to let loose like Emil. To pretend- you remain unchanged and unbent because you are just that strong. I used to have a resilient will like that.  
How can you remain unaltered, but U cannot? What gives me the right to crack under this strain? If only I was like my old self. The one that actually believed.  
-Mathias

October 27, 1977

Dearest Lukas,

It's been quite a while, huh? Well, I'm back to bother you. Look, I still can't get on without you here, but... I am getting along better, and so is Emil. I'm happy he is doing better, but me, not so much.  
As strange as it sounds, I... I don't want to get over it. I don't want to feel better about you being gone. I want to feel that sting of loss, to feel those tears rush in. Why? God, I don't know. It's quite ridiculous, honestly. Childish, even. Emil is handling it better than me. Now, he's the one comforting me when I cry those strained, forced tears. Oh Lukas, what has become of your Mathias? I know I sound like a broken record, but... Everything's the same without you.  
As bad as it is, I can only be happy it is not Emil dead. Without him, I don't know what would have become of me, of us. The kid is my life, you know?

December 24, 1977

My love, my equal, my dearest dearest Lukas,

Happy Christmas eve! You know, I know you can't stand it, but... I love Christmas eve a lot better than Christmas. The anticipation, you know. I've actually bought Emil that toy he's wanted. He knows it, too- the little monster keeps rambling about how _excited_ he is to play with it. I... I wish you were here to see his excited little face when he opens it tomorrow morning. To hear him giggle, to rip it open immediately, to hug the both of us with an affectionate 'Thank you'. He wishes it, too.  
You know, instead of writing a letter to Santa Claus this year, he's written one to you.  
I have as well.  
Happy Christmas eve, my love.  
-Mathias

June 17, 1978

Dearest Lukas,

Very long time no see.  
Well... Today's the day. Emil's fifth birthday. To tell you the truth, he damn near threw a temper tantrum- wanted _you_ to make the cake. I was honestly shocked, as it had been the first time in a long time since he's done that. But I was relived- he hadn't completely shut you out, yet. It was so refreshing I could barely manage to weakly console him.  
I wanted to cry. Five years already, huh? How time flies when you're having fun.  
And despite missing you, despite wanting _you_ to read to him, he is still a happy child. And it pains me to think of how he will grow up in a world without you, and... How we never got married. Impossible, though, huh? Us, two men, to be married? What would your dear old mom say? Haha, who'd wear the dress?  
But anyways, I... I wanted to say I love you. I love you more than anything. I know I don't say it too much, I'm sorry, but... I love you more than words can say. And... I'm not good with words, I never was, but... I still love you. It wasn't, it's not, "loved". I _love_ you, Lukas. Still. And I will never stop. I love you more than anything, right with Emil. You two are my world.  
Oh God, you take my breath away, I can't even speak, let alone write, I just keep repeating myself.... I'm not good with words at all, and yet, I carelessly throw them around, in every mentally exhausting letter I write out to you. But this one- this one is different. It comes from the heart- as they all did, but... This one is good. I have a good, fluttering feeling in my chest as I write this, and the usual pain is absent. I know this is just a good day, and there will still be some very hard ones, and that I will never 'get over you', if such a thing exists.  
I still believe I can make everyday a good one.  
You know, I don't stand by what I said earlier- about being changed. If I would have to say, if I still believe, I would say I haven't changed at all from that twelve year old boy on the dock, running to shake hands with the beautiful young man.  
I'm still like I once was.  
Even if I'm now a grown man, torn from loss, I'm still the same boy who fell in love with you.  
And I know it, I still believe I can make everyday a day worth living, even if... Even if you are not there to smile with me. And Emil?  
I know he still believes, too.  
-Mathias

_________  


**Author's Note:**

> It's three am and i just went, "Why not finish that lame one shot I started in April?  
> Enjoy, dearest readers.


End file.
